


take this waltz

by andreabibiana



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:58:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1690775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreabibiana/pseuds/andreabibiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer is at its peak, too hot, too dry, very annoying. Their usual spots of shade in town are no longer a relief. Staying outside all day is becoming less and less of a good idea. To Aberforth's dismay, that means they've got to be around most of the time. Inside the house. Polluting the air with their neverending chat and filling every corner with their grandeur pretenses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take this waltz

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the Leonard Cohen song of the same name that heavily inspired this story, although it's completely unrelated to its content. Still I would recommend anyone to listen to the song, just because (and if you're spanish fluent, be sure to check out Enrique Morente's magnificent cover of it, I like it better if I'm to be honest).

The summer is at its peak, too hot, too dry, very annoying. Their usual spots of shade in town are no longer a relief. Staying outside all day is becoming less and less of a good idea. To Aberforth's dismay, that means they've got to be around most of the time. Inside the house. Polluting the air with their neverending chat and filling every corner with their grandeur pretenses. Aberforth, of course, doesn't say a word. He just makes sure to stay out of their way, out of their sight, out of their reach. Gellert thinks it's funny; Aberforth is very funny, bothering himself with the garden, like he can actually do anything to fix it, like he's delicate enough for the task. Albus isn't exactly amused. He would rather not think about it, in fact. But Ariana... Ariana's not happy at all. If her body would allow her, she would leave too. She silently resents the change of caretaker, refusing to speak to either of them, pretending they are invisible. This worries them. Well, it worries Albus. For Gellert, it's also kind of a challenge. Gellert sure loves a challenge.

* * *

Afternoon in the living room, Albus reads to Ariana. He has long given up trying to cheer her up, so he contents himself with slightly entertaining her. Slightly, being the keyword, for she's seated by him but her mind is elsewhere and her gaze unclear. Gellert doesn't listen much either; he's by the desk, writing a note to his family. Barely noticeable, the scratching of the quill over the parchment intertwines with Albus' reading voice, but not for long.

Albus can hear the paper rolling and then feel Gellert move around, disturbing the silence, taking his mind off the tale and the words. (And his sister...) Then Gellert sits at the armchair next to him. He can feel his gaze, almost hear him thinking, analysing, calculating and planning, but he won't stop for him, the tale is not done yet. So he continues, eyes on the book, mind on Ariana, heart... wherever.

Last sentence reached, he closes the book on his lap and looks at his sister. She's not really concerned at all, he thinks but-

"She's just a child, Albus. Why would you read such grim a tale for her?", expectedly so, Gellert's question interrupts him mid-thought.

"Believe it or not, those are the ones that please her.", he answers, seemingly uninterested. Gellert grins as if possessing knowledge of a secret.

"Well, she doesn't seem very pleased. Are you, young lady?", he retorts, turning to Ariana. For an answer, he gets a frown, and nothing else. Albus can almost taste the victory, for Gellert's pursuit of Ariana's heart is completely doomed. Yet his friend doesn't seem discouraged. "You know what I think?" he continues, "You keep speaking to her mind, but you forget about her soul."

Cryptic words from a cryptic boy, who likes to think himself sharper, smarter than he really is. That's what Albus hears; he refrains from raising an eyebrow, very aware of the tricks he's grown accustomed to. He, of course, won't give in, won't ask, won't let himself be impressed.

"The language of the soul, is much trickier than reading from a book. Take, music, for example. What really makes music work? What's the mechanism behind all those sounds arranged into patterns that make us so... " Gellert stops, as if lacking a precise word, battling with the language barrier.

"Passionate?" tries Albus, forgetting himself, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Yes!" exclaims Gellert, suddenly standing, "That's it." His smile shines with satisfaction, making Albus bite his lip regretfully. Gellert walks in circles around the room, the energy barely contained within his small frame, intent concentration showing in his gaze. "Does she like any pieces?", he asks without stopping.

"Lullabies, mostly. We've never had a piano."

"Well, then I guess I'll go with... Yes.", he finally stops, sitting again by the desk. Ariana has been looking at him, a little bit puzzled, and Albus has to concede he at least knows how to catch her attention.

Wand in his hand, a few flickers, and out of thin air they go, light dashes floating around and becoming black and white keys as they settle in front of him. Gellert starts testing, fingers pressing over the surface as if it was the real thing; perfectly tuned sounds come out of his moving hands, turning quickly into a melody line.

The interest gets the best of Ariana, who can't but turn to him and listen. Not happily, not quite. Enraptured, perhaps; amazed by Gellert’s show, somehow conceding he’s, for the moment, worth of her attention. Both siblings remain still, quietly, unable to break the spell of a beauty so unnatural within the walls of their home.

Albus is supposed to feel annoyed; Gellert has won, again. The thought leaves him as quickly as it comes. Music is a wonder, he thinks instead, watching Gellert's graceful moves as he continues to play the magically originated piano keys. Like everything the boy does, music flows out of him so easily. It shouldn't feel so wrong, not to know this side of him. But it bothers him, more than he'd like to admit, how much of Gellert Grindelwald remains a complete mistery to him. Whereas himself, feels naked to the boy's eyes, open to him to read as quickly as any of their books. Because, there really isn't much to know about Albus Dumbledore, is it? Bookish and boring, all out in plain sight, no grace, no glow, no layers.

The music stops and then starts again, but this time Gellert is not playing. Instead, the keys press themselves to the rhythm of a waltz, while the boy stands up and walks up to his audience. Ariana claps, and so does Albus, unaware of his own body, while Gellert bows to them and laughs cheerily. The room is filled with sound, to much sound. Albus takes a long while to notice that Gellert just stands in front of them, holding out his hand. He certainly, for someone who's lauded for his wits, takes even longer to figure out what the gesture means. Gellert must be delusional, he's about to point out, because there's no way Ariana is going to dance with him. Except he doesn't need to, and the laughter dies in his throat. Because Gellert is tending a hand to him, not to Ariana. People have really overestimated his intelligence.

He knows he must be blushing as Gellert puts him to his feet and leads him around the room. Albus has never been the dancing type and his body feels clumsy, trying to keep up, but there's no mockery in his friends eyes, not the slightest. It's not that much different of a duel, he soon realises, with the whole predicting what's the partner doing next. And so, he begins to relax.

Smiles and laughter in their faces, music in the background, Ariana's curious eyes on the side... That's how Aberforth finds them, and, of course, he doesn't like it. But Aberforth likes a very small amount of things, anyway. And so it begins. Aberforth screams angrily, as per usual; talks about how Albus doesn't care, again; takes Ariana away for dinner, or something like that. Aberforth may as well be saying he's going to burn the house down, Albus is too tired, and when his brother is gone and his sister leaves with him, Gellert's hands are still holding him close.

So they keep on dancing, because there's no reason for them to stop. The room is painted red by the last of sunlight, and Albus feels his body warming up and his feet lighter with every step. It is until the darkness takes over them and the music stops gently that they stay still, in sudden quietness.

"Don't you think we should go upstairs?", asks Gellerts in a whispering voice that dares not to raise in a silence that feels almost sacred. And Albus thinks of what that means, the things they never speak about, the things they don't dare to taint with words, not just yet: the lingering hands, the too friendly embraces, the lips over his skin, too soft and yet so promising.


End file.
